


Oh.

by tiredandmaniacal



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Aftercare, Hair-pulling, I also just call Smitty 'Smitty' because, I know people call him lucas but i dunno so lol, John's got a hair pulling kink, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, aight so I hate myself and i wanted to post this SOMEWHERE, anyway moving on, brief mutual masturbation, hes smitty, i guess??, look i am AWARE this is not the best thing but listen, needy Smit, slight degradation?, they love each other a lot, why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 14:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13459794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredandmaniacal/pseuds/tiredandmaniacal
Summary: John knows what he's doingSmitty just realised what he wanted





	Oh.

"I happen to be pretty good at a little thing," John chuckles, Smitty jumping slightly as John's hands push his shirt up slightly, cold hands resting on soft, warm skin. "Seducing guys, actually. And I've got a fondness for you," he hums, kissing down Smitty's neck gently, his hands surpassing the waistline of the younger boy's sweatpants, one hand cupping his boxer-clad dick.

"John," Smitty breathes out, leaning back into John, head resting on his shoulder. John's hand moves around, cupping Smitty's perfect ass, before using that arm to wrap around his torso, pulling him flush to his chest, watching as Smitty's face twists, eyes closed blissfully as he bites his lip, feeling John's hard-on against his ass.

"C'mon, why don't you tell me what you want me to do?" John purrs, teasing Smitty's dick through his boxers, noticing the slight wet patch. "God, you want me to touch you so fucking bad, huh?" He teases, earning a quiet moan, and a nod, hair brushing against John's neck.

"Just...touch me, please," he breathes out, and John honestly can't help himself, his hand slipping past Smitty's boxers, wrapping his hand around Smitty's dick, already earning himself a loud moan.

Smitty grinds back into John slightly, who groans lowly. "Shit, baby boy, you're gonna kill me," he murmurs, walking them both back to sit down on the computer chair, for Smitty to grind back into him again, prompting to John to bite his lip to mute the sound that would have likely humiliated the shit out of him. Smitty shifts, John's arms moving so that he could turn around, straddling John's lap with a small smile, tongue between his teeth.

John raises an eyebrow at him, before his hand slips past Smitty's sweatpants, and boxers, stroking his erection "Mmph, there is no way someone with...shi— shit, someone with such long hair," Smitty's cut off by his own moan, burying his face in the crook of John's neck as he gives up on speaking. He tangles his fingers in John's hair, tugging far from gently at it while he places light kisses against John's skin.

Smitty's suspicions are _more_ than confirmed as John groans into Smitty's hair, who faintly feels John's dick twitch. "Called it," he grins in victory, for John to huff, stopping. Smitty goes to protest, only for John to stretch, arms resting behind his head as he leans back, more or less taunting the boy on his lap.

"Do it yourself then, if you're gonna be like that," he says, earning a sharp glare from Smitty, who leans forward, lips ghosting against John's.

"I fucking will then," Smitty murmurs, tugging his sweatpants off while John works on kicking his own off, ending up losing his boxers in the process. An extremely devious little smirk rises to Smitty's lips, causing John to falter slightly.

" _Or_ ," Smitty says, voice low, a hand trailing down his stomach, keeping half-lidded eye contact with John as he moves past the waistband of his boxers, biting his lip as he wraps a hand around his own cock, pumping himself slowly.

"Holy fuck," John chokes, breath hitching in his throat as he watches Smitty. John would be lying to the extent of murder if he'd said he hadn't thought about it, about Smitty like  _this_ , thinking about  _him_ and only  _him_. It takes the rest of the little amount of self-control that John still had to not throw him to the floor and fuck him stupid, but he doesn't deny himself the pleasure, wrapping a hand around his almost painfully erect cock, letting out a shaky breath.

"Fuck, John," Smitty moans, intentionally dragging his name out, making eye contact, watching as John visibly snaps, chest falling once more before he practically ripped Smitty's boxers off. He wasn't even  _trying_ to be careful anymore, not that Smitty minded, pulling him forward, flush against his chest to kiss him, viciously at that, teeth clashing a moment before it was just sloppy, rushed, needy open mouthed kisses.

John gripped Smitty's hips rough enough to leave bruises, which Smitty knew he'd enjoy looking back on. He shifts, their cocks brushing against each other, causing both boys to curse quietly through moans. The finite amount of breathing they were able to achieve between the frantic kisses were simply sharp intakes of breath, inconsistent. Funnily enough, this was the first time they'd kissed, fuelled by lust and love and a mess of other bullshit shoved to the side.

"Fuck- John I need you to fuck me," Smitty speeds through the words, desperate as his fingers threaded themselves through John's hair again, tugging roughly once, earning a choked moan. John doesn't hesitate, gesturing for Smitty to move, lining himself up. He wasn't even  _slightly_ ready for the way Smitty practically dropped down onto him, short nails digging into John's scalp as he hisses out John's name, biting back noises that would have woken everyone in the state and then some, almost missing the way John practically whimpered.

"Don't even need prepping, do you? Probably had so many fucking dildos stuck up your ass, probably wishing it was my fucking cock, huh? You're a little fucking slut, aren't you?" John growls, biting harshly at Smitty's neck, who was being drop-kicked off the edge of a goddamn cliff with bricks tied to his feet, because holy fuck that was hot, and it turned him on so much more than he'd care to admit.

" _Yes_ , fuck yes, John I'm such a fucking slut," he pants, his nails digging into John's shoulders as he circles his hips, causing them both to make some, primal, sexual fucking noise that no words in any language strung together could describe, but then Smitty started moving, bouncing on John's lap, drawing even more of it from both of them. "Your fucking cock slut, all yours," he barely manages to speak, squeezing his eyes closed, revelling in the heat of it all.

John places a hard slap to his ass, and Smitty's head fell back, hissing out his name in the midst of a moan. "You fucking like that, don't you? 'Course you do," John growls, massaging the mark with one hand while he used his free hand to tangle into Smitty's hair, tugging his head back so he could make his mark on his neck.

John couldn't help but buck his hips up into it, and Smitty practically screamed in response, begging for it harder and faster. "Fuck! Right there, right fucking there," Smitty moans, loud, lewd and vulgar. John brings one hand up to Smitty's jaw, running his thumb over abused lips, the countless rings on the hand he hadn't been fucked to take them off of were cold against Smitty's cheek. His free hand drifted down, pumping Smitty's neglected cock, matching his own thrusts.

"Such a fucking slut for me," John hums, and it was pleasant to Smitty's ears, soft, despite it's intention. Smitty's head rests in the crook of John's neck, his energy leaving him. "Mm, you're so pretty, you looked so fucked," John chuckles, a broken, kind of choked chuckle, but a chuckle nonetheless.

"John I'm so fucking- _shit_ , I..." Smitty pants, unable to voice it. John simply nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I— fuck, yeah, so am I," John murmurs, and then Smitty's fingers are curling into the fabric of John's shirt, and John's hand, still cupping Smitty's face, is pulling him into a kiss, his free arm pulling the smaller boy closer to him.

Smitty physically shudders, John's name leaving him in a broken whimper mixed with a moan, white stringing across both of their shirts, while John bites down harshly on his lip, using all the energy in him to lift Smitty up so that he could pull out, hands splayed across Smitty's back. He makes a considerably higher pitched noise, feeling Smitty wrap his arms around his neck while he finds his own climax less than a second after, his own shirt stained. Smitty falls against him, John wrapping his arms around him, placing a light kiss just next to his ear, continuously whispering praise, and a constant 'I love you' in a hundred different ways until Smitty's uneven breathing falls regular, chest rising and falling leisurely against John's.

John kisses the top of his head, hesitating a moment before manoeuvring so he could lift Smitty up, walking over to his bed, gently placing the smaller boy down. He steps back, grabbing their boxers off the ground, tugging his own on and pulling his shirt off over his head, eyeing the grey shirt, before throwing into a corner without a second thought. John moves over to Smitty, struggling, but managing to put his boxers on while he lay in what looked like an almost comatose state. John places a quick, chaste kiss to Smitty's forehead to get his attention.

"Mm?"

"I just gotta get your shirt off, babe."

Smitty throws his arms up lazily, face scrunching up as his knuckles hit the headboard, earning a chuckle from John before he tugs the shirt off, throwing it with his own. He'd deal with it later. John falls next to Smitty, who immediately cuddled into him with an incoherent mumble.

"What?" John asks with a breath of a laugh to his tone, tracing patterns on Smitty's arm aimlessly, who moves, his head resting on John's chest.

"I love you," he murmurs, placing a lazy kiss to John's chest, before yawning. 

John smiles to himself, throwing his arms around the smaller boy, pulling the covers over them. "I love you too," he says, letting his eyes fall shut. "Goodnight, Smitty." He pulls Smitty the slightest bit closer as he speaks.

"Mm...night, John," he says, groggy, almost incoherent. He barely caught it.

John couldn't help the smile that rose to his lips.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you'll tear italics away from my cold dead hands, and I mean I TRIED not to use them every five seconds, I really did


End file.
